


Desire, Most Explosive

by Drarrymadhatter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:34:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24380626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drarrymadhatter/pseuds/Drarrymadhatter
Summary: Harry is sick of how his life is going and so visits Erised to dream of his deepest desire. However, what he actually desires is Malfoy in breeches.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 1
Kudos: 40





	Desire, Most Explosive

**Author’s Note: Contains strong language.**

* * *

**Desire, Most Explosive**

Harry stood outside the posh glass doors and chewed his lip nervously as he stared at the sign above the doors. Erised - Live Your Deepest Desires. He should go in — there were only a few minutes left until his appointment and he knew he must look ridiculous standing around looking like a lost puppy. When he had first seen the advertisement in the Quibbler, the idea had seized him and refused to relinquish its hold. Ever since the war ended six months ago, Harry had sat and watched everyone begin to put their lives back together and move on. Hermione returned to Hogwarts to get her NEWTs, Ron had gone to work at the joke shop, and they had each other. Which meant, by default, Harry had no one. Not really. Especially since he had split with Ginny. He’d realised that he liked guys more than girls, and Ginny was happier with Dean anyway.

As a result, Harry had been spending a lot of time on his own at Grimmauld Place, with only Kreacher and a mad portrait for company. Ron had said what he really needed was to go to a club, get drunk as hell, and hook up with someone. Harry had dismissed that idea right off the bat — getting your leg over was hardly a cure-all.

If he was honest, he couldn’t blame his friends for not being around as much. He was moping. How could he not? Everything just reminded him of the Forbidden Forest. Of dying. Of the Resurrection Stone. He’d promised Dumbledore not to go looking for it, and so far he had managed to keep his promise. But Merlin, he needed something. A reason. Hopefully, this would give him that.

When he had mentioned Erised to his friends at the Burrow the other day, Hermione had lost her patience with him. She had told him he was living in the past and to remember what Dumbledore had said — it doesn’t do to dwell on dreams, and forget to live.  
It was easy for her to say that though, Harry reminded himself; it wasn’t as if her entire family was dead. With that resolve firmly planted in his mind, he squared his shoulders and, pulling the heavy door open, headed towards the welcome witch at the front desk.  
“Welcome to Erised. How may I help you?” The woman behind the desk smiled pleasantly at him.  
“Yes, I have an appointment,” mumbled Harry, trying to keep the exchange as quiet as possible.  
“No problem, Sir. Your name, please?” she asked, tapping away at her computer.  
Harry paused for a moment before practically whispering his answer.  
“I’m Harry Potter.”  
Just as Harry expected, the woman’s eyes instantly widened in recognition and flicked to the scar still showing on his forehead. However, he was immensely grateful when she managed to retain her poise, discreetly lowering her voice.  
“Ah, yes, Mr Potter. I would usually ask you to take a seat in the waiting room, but under the circumstances...would you like to follow me?”  
Harry beamed at the woman gratefully and followed her into a comfortable looking room.  
“Dr Hansen? This is Mr Potter,” she introduced. “Dr Hansen will be your simulation specialist for today.” With a last polite nod, she left the room, closing the door smartly behind her.  
“Please, try not to be nervous, Mr Potter. Won’t you take a seat?”  
“Harry. Just Harry is fine,” he replied as he sat in one of the plush armchairs. “Mr Potter sounds old!”  
“Okay, Harry, the procedure is quite simple. Once you feel ready, you will take the simulation inducement potion and lie on the bed. You will find yourself asleep and dreaming very quickly, most usually within a few seconds. You will have two hours in which you will dream your deepest desires. After which, I will administer the antidote and you will awaken. Do you have any questions?”  
After assuring the doctor that he understood everything involved, Harry moved to sit on the edge of the bed and took the bottle of potion being handed to him. He only paused for a moment, steadying himself, before pulling the stopper and drinking the potion in one go. Almost instantly, he could feel his vision begin to swirl and ripple, and he automatically lowered himself to lie on the bed. As soon as his head hit the pillow, his vision began to fade out to darkness and he gave himself over to it, unaware of the smiling doctor covering his body with a blanket.

Noise, thought Harry. Noise and Dust. Not to mention some very questionable smells. He looked around himself and saw hordes of people rushing around, all dressed in strange old fashioned outfits. Some had horses, and he could see one of two rickety carriages making their way along the roughly paved road. Right, he thought, my deepest desire is to spend time with my parents in the past? He attempted to get a grip on the confusion and slight panic that was swirling around inside his head by shaking it rather like a dog trying to dislodge an annoying flea, but, unsurprisingly, it didn’t work.  
He looked at himself critically, aware that his comfortable jeans and jumper had been replaced with something from a period drama! His legs were clad in what he could only assume were white tights. Tights! On top of that, were a pair of pale blue breeches, which were tight over his shins and then loosened a little around the thigh area. His upper body was clad in a very tight pale blue and gold jacket with lace from his shirt underneath showing at the collar and sleeves. The outfit was finished off with orange shoes and matching belt. What the actual fuck?  
At that moment, Harry’s inner panic was interrupted by sudden yells and movement. He looked around in time to see a young man being pursued by two other, official-looking men. Regardless of what was going on, Harry could see, without a doubt, that the pursuers were chasing with intent to harm, maybe even kill.  
Acting on instinct, Harry went to plunge his hand into his jeans pocket to grab his wand, only to realise that he was no longer wearing jeans. Not only that, he no longer had his wand. In fact, he couldn’t feel any magic within his body at all. What the actual — Harry looked at the retreating figures. He might not have his magic but he couldn’t just stand around and not help.  
He watched the three figures head down the main road and take a left turn, and an idea came to him. Quickly, he dashed into a side alley and made his way quickly as possible — climbing over crates and Merlin knew what else — bringing him out ahead of the action. Just as the chased man was about to pass by, Harry grabbed him, one arm around his chest and the other covering his mouth, and dragged him into the alley behind a stack of crates only a moment before the pursuers came into sight and ran past them and into another street.  
Harry huffed a sigh of relief before realising that he still had his arms wrapped firmly around the man, whoever he was, and that his hand was still clamped across the man’s mouth. Conscious of the fact that this person might not take kindly to being manhandled by a stranger, Harry carefully removed himself and, slowly, they both turned to face each other.  
Malfoy? Draco fucking Malfoy? Harry was aware his mouth was hanging open in shock, but he couldn’t seem to get his brain to cooperate. He was supposed to be getting comfort from his parents, not cavorting about Stuart London with Draco Malfoy. He became aware that Draco was watching him cautiously, as if sizing up the potential risk Harry posed, before deciding Harry was safe.  
“I’m not sure who you are, but thank you for helping me.”  
Harry just stared at him. Did he not know who he was? Who Harry was?  
“I’m Draco Malfoy, but everyone just calls me Drake. What’s your name?”  
Harry tried to force himself to reply, but only managed to have an odd squeak come out of his mouth.  
“Are you ok?” asked Draco, obviously concerned. “You look a bit pale. You don’t have some kind of illness, do you?”  
After another few seconds of Harry standing gaping like a codfish, Draco grabbed him by the arm and started to pull him along the alley.  
“Look, it’s not safe here, come on.”  
After a couple of minutes, Harry found himself being led into a rather rundown looking building. Once inside, he followed Draco up the stairs and over to a large bookcase, which Draco promptly pushed aside to reveal a hidden passageway. They pulled the bookcase into place behind them and crept along the passageway, eventually coming out into a large room. It was comfortably furnished with a bed, a small table and chairs, a dresser, a fireplace, and shelves filled with books. This was clearly where Draco lived.  
Harry barely had time to look around properly before he found himself being pushed into a chair and handed a glass of wine.  
“Drink up. It’s not poisoned, I promise. You just look like you could use a drink.”  
“Thanks,” mumbled Harry as he took a deep drink, deciding to just go with the madness for the time being.  
“No problem. It’s the least I can do. You honestly just saved my life.”  
“Saved your life?” echoed Harry.  
“Well, yeah, the guards were hardly chasing me to invite me for lunch, now were they?” laughed Draco, his eyes crinkling in amusement.  
“I suppose not,” agreed Harry, indulging in another long drink of his wine.  
“Not that I’m not grateful, but why did you bring me here? How do you know you can trust me?”  
“The orange belt on your doublet,” replied Draco, signalling to his jacket before continuing. “So, you know how I am,” he stated casually, “but who are you?”  
“I’m Harry Potter. I’m not really sure what I’m doing here if I’m honest.”  
“Ah, let me guess. Your life was lacking adventure so you came here in search of some action? Some greater meaning? A purpose?”  
Harry couldn’t help but grin at the theatrics of the man. Yes, Draco was poking fun, but for once he didn’t seem to mind.  
“You’re not far wrong, actually.”  
“I’m guessing you don’t have anywhere to stay?”  
“Erm, no, not as such.” confessed Harry nervously.  
“Well, you can stay here for the night anyway,” reassured Draco, “and we’ll see what we can sort out tomorrow. Do you have family here?”  
“My family are dead.” The statement, although delivered bluntly, made Harry’s chest feel hollow. He looked at Draco, dreading the pity such a statement so often piqued, but thankfully there was only understanding in his eyes.  
“I’m in the same boat as you. But if you came here looking for action and purpose, well, I can help. Interested?”  
Harry couldn’t believe it, but he was interested. Not trusting himself to speak, he nodded at Draco, causing the man to smile warmly at him. Merlin what a smile, Harry thought. He’d only ever seen him smile to sneer, but never anything like this. It seemed to transform him, making his sharp features warm and radiant.  
“Have you heard of the Jesuits?”  
Harry shook his head and found himself leaning forward in anticipation.  
“I’ll fill you in, then take you along to the meeting for you to meet the rest of us. I swear, Harry, we pull this off and we’re going to go down in the history books!”

That night found Harry dragging his slightly drunk and entirely exhausted body as he followed Draco along the passageway and back into his rooms.  
“I hope you don’t mind sharing a bed, but it’s either that or the floor, my friend.”  
Harry wasn’t sure how he felt about that, and it must have shown on his face as Draco let out a low chuckle before speaking again.  
“Don’t worry, I might be partial to a bit of man-love, but I wouldn’t force the issue as a means of payment. You’re safe with me.”  
Harry shrugged his acceptance and, after readying himself for bed, slipped under the blankets next to Draco, who leaned over and blew out the candle on the bedside table. Within moments, Draco was snoring lightly. Harry, however, couldn’t seem to make sense of the night’s information buzzing around inside his head.  
He just couldn’t believe it! One minute he was preparing to see his parents, and the next he’d been enlisted by the Jesuit group to help end the Catholic reign by blowing up bloody parliament! With Draco Malfoy, no less! He remembered learning about the famous GunPowder Treason Plot of the seventeenth century when he was in primary school. Hell, Guy Fawkes Day was a national bloody holiday! It certainly clarified a few things! The clothes. The location. He had been bewildered that Draco trusted him because of the colour of his belt, but now it made sense. The protestant colours were orange, and of course the Jesuits were in opposition to the Catholic regime. He supposed that was how they identified each other. He closed his eyes and tried to lull himself to sleep. He was going to need it if he were to avoid the same fate as he knew awaited the rest of the gang's associates.

Harry felt his back and knees protest as he helped Draco lift the barrel of gunpowder and load it onto the wagon. They’d been lifting for most of the morning, and it was starting to take its toll on him. Once the barrels were finally in place, Draco whistled to the driver, who argued the horses forwards and into action. Harry leaned against the wall and wiped his sleeve across his sweaty forehead. Why men’s fashion had to include layers and layers was beyond him. He was amazed people weren’t dropping dead from heat exhaustion all around him.  
“Here, catch!” Harry barely had a second to think before his seeker reflexes kicked in and he caught the tankard Draco had thrown his way.  
“Thanks,” replied Harry gratefully, before guzzling a few swallows of lukewarm water. I swear I’m never taking ice water for granted again, promised Harry, as he threw the tankard back to Draco.  
However, before Harry could think about the next portion of their task, he and Draco became suddenly aware of horse hooves clipping towards them. Soldiers. Lots of them. The next thing Harry knew, he and Draco were running full pelt along the streets and alleyways, trying to find a place to hide.  
“Quick, in here!”  
Harry felt himself dragged under a flight of wooden stairs partially hidden by a pile of junk.  
They crouched low and tried to keep as quiet as possible. Harry could hear his heart thudding so loudly in his chest he was sure the whole city could hear it. They were going to be caught, he could feel it.  
“We’re not going to be caught,” whispered Draco, and Harry realised he must have spoken out loud.  
“We’re going to die.” hissed Harry.  
“Like hell we are. I’ll be damned if I put in all this work to die before I pull it off.”  
Harry turned to tell Draco just how batshit crazy he was, when he realised just how close their faces actually were. He could see the flush from their running on Draco’s cheeks. He could see the flecks of blue in his pale grey eyes. The compulsion to do something foolish and impulsive was rising from his toes and spreading through his entire body. If I’m about to die, why not be reckless? Seizing the moment, Harry pressed forwards and brushed his lips across Draco’s. He had barely leaned back to his own space when Draco shrugged his shoulders and leaned into Harry, kissing him back, hard and deep and sinful. Harry felt himself moan into Draco’s mouth as they both wound their arms around each other, lost in the adrenaline and madness of the moment.  
The sound of boot clad footsteps jolted them out of the moment and they separated from each other. Harry looked at Draco, who was looking as surprised as he felt. At that moment, rough hands grabbed him and hoisted him painfully to his feet. However, before he could make sure Draco was ok, or process the situation, his vision began to ripple and fade, until all he could see was darkness.

Harry blinked himself awake and sat up in a panicked rush, before remembering where he was.  
“Just take a minute,” soothed Doctor Hanson. “It’s common to experience disorientation upon waking.”  
Harry let himself relax back onto the pillow and allowed the doctor to perform a few quick diagnostic spells to make sure he reacted well with the experience.  
“Did you enjoy your experience Mr Potter?”  
“Surprisingly, I did.”  
“I’m glad. Now you just rest a minute, and then ready yourself. You can leave as soon as you wish. The bill will be sent to your residence. Have a nice day, Mr Potter.”  
Harry sat up and took a sip of the water that was sitting beside the bed for him and thought. I’m hot for Malfoy, apparently. And the tight breeches were just an added bonus. But what to do about it. It was like someone had lit a fire under Harry and, for the first time in ages, he felt alive. Swinging himself off the bed, he got himself sorted to leave. No time like the present to start trying to court a bloody Malfoy, he grinned to himself.


End file.
